against
her, delving deep. His hot length kissed her womb and she trembled. A strange,
keening ache enveloped her. An orgasm unlike anything she had ever known rose
up within her. It was wild. Wanton. Ravaged her, body and soul.
When he began to withdraw, she groaned but he continued to
pull out. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to hold him in,
whimpering when she couldn’t.
Just when he was about to slip out, he reversed direction
and eased back in, slowly, unerringly finding his way to her core once more.
In the throes of yet another wash of bliss, she clenched at
him again. He jerked his cock back out and before she had time to complain
thrust it home again. And again. And again.
Aimalee shivered and thrashed beneath him, begging and
pleading and nipping at his flesh like a savage.
And then it happened.
Keeshan rose up, went stiff. Deep within her, his cock
swelled, filling her, dominating her every thought.
He moved just a tiny bit and her swollen folds contracted.
Aimalee, unable to bear the sensation, fractured. Rapture
came and took her and carried her off. But she wasn’t alone.
His body, tight as a bowstring, erupted. Hot and hard, jets
of cream flooded her as Keeshan came along with her.
Long after the passion had receded, they lay there on the
pillows, wrapped in each other’s arms, breath tangling. Aimalee held him close
and laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart, steady and strong. His
skin warmed her cheek.
She had never experienced anything quite so wonderful and
she didn’t want it to ever, ever end.
If this was a dream, it was the best dream she’d ever had.
Chapter Six
When they recovered from that delightful interlude, Keeshan
took Aimalee on the tour of the palace. It was a brief tour. In truth there was
not much to show—the mirror room, the sleep chamber and the banquet hall she
had already seen—but it always calmed his visitors, knowing the lay of the
land.
“This,” he said, opening the fourth door, “is the library.”
She poked her head in and gasped. It was a long room,
flanked with row upon row of bookcases, jammed with all manner of reading
material. There was a long divan against one wall and a roughhewn table at the
center, piled with books.
Her nose twitched and she leaned in farther. “May I come in
here and read? When there’s time?”
He nodded. “Certainly.” But there wouldn’t be time. He knew
her visit here would be short. Like the blink of an eye. He knew once she left,
another century of loneliness gaped before him like an abyss. He planned to
keep her occupied, to take full advantage of her while he could.
The thought annoyed him so he quickly guided her out of the
room and closed the door, moving on to the next. He opened the door and stepped
back. “The playroom.”
She shot him a cynical glance. “The playroom? Really?” And
then she peeped inside and chuckled. “It’s a workout room.” It was filled with
weights and resistance machines, all fashioned after modern accoutrements he’d
seen in the mirror.
“This is where I exercise, yes.”
There was no need for her to study him the way she did.
Certainly no call for her to murmur with that hint of hesitation, “Y-you work
out?”
He resisted the urge to flex for her. Surely it was obvious.
He did, after all, have a lot of time on his hands. “You are welcome to watch,
should you so desire.”
He enjoyed the slow creep of red up her cheeks. Enjoyed even
more the knowledge that he could make her blush.
She fidgeted for a bit as though tempted to take him up on
the offer and then stepped out of the room, back into the sweeping atrium. She
scanned the row of doors. “And where do you…” Her flush deepened and she
wiggled a little.
He was entranced by the movement but managed to respond.
“Where do I what?”
She edged closer and licked her lips several times in
succession as though that would help the words slip out. “Where do you…pee?”
He
Learning to Kill: Stories